My Summer in Hell

*NOTE: I wrote these first three chapters last summer, so as I continue to upload the writing style may change, but I assure you, this is MY story.*

 I’m not a good girl; I steal, I lie, I cheat, I am a county certified “teenage delinquent” complete with criminal record and all. I know I’m not a good child, and that my parents aren’t exactly proud of me, but I never expected to be sent here.  This place is my hell. Waking up at the crack of dawn, no cell phone, no internet, and hell there might as well be dress code for the little amount of clothing you can wear here. I can’t wear my boots, my studs, my piercings, my fishnets, or my hair extensions. This place is hell on Earth and I’m stuck here all summer, roughly three months, about fourteen weeks, one hundred days. FML. You’re probably wondering where the hell I am exactly, or rather what I did to end up here, well I’ve got nothing else to do so grab a chair, sit down, and shut up; it’s story time.

     It all started last week, the last week of school. Me and my buddies were all crowded around in someone’s living room making plans for the summer. There was me, Sahara, Jake, P.J, and Farrah. We were all cut from the same cloth if you know what I mean. Hoods, delinquents, kleptos, criminals, whatever you want to call us. Me and Farrah were sitting on the couch stretched out and laid out, our legs were intertwining. Sahara and P.J were sitting on the floor leaning against the wall holding hands and whispering to each other every so often, they were the group couple. Finally Jake was on a food raid in the kitchen.  We were a rag tag band of misfits, we didn’t fit in with the average society, but we fit with each other. It’s weird.

     First we had Sahara, and wow we had something there. Sahara was a blond little pixie, complete with blue eyes, small nose, pointy ears, dimples, and pink streaks. She has never actually dyed all of her hair, just colored streaks. It makes for a weird combination.  Her style was more scene and prep then the rest of us. Like, she likes stuff in Hollister and whatever those crappy stores are called. Don’t ask me how she fit with us, she just did.

      Then came Jake. If you can picture an all out screamo-loving, black haired, dark eyed, Goth, then you pretty much have Jake. He was our musical connection and our deco. Store owners stereotype, so they watch Jake with an eagle’s eyes; that leaves the rest of us free to ‘buy’ our items or ‘bump’ the cash register. He’s actually pretty harmless, no tattoos, no depressing poetry; he has the looks, just not the full personality.

       P.J was our underground connection. He knew who was in juvie, who got out, who got with who, who slept with who, that sort of thing. He knew where the sickest parties would be held, and which ones would be hit by the cops; it was a talent of his. P.J didn’t have much in the looks department, he was kind of nerdy. When I say nerdy I mean really nerdy; he wore thick black frames, had brown mud colored eyes, and his nose was crooked and looked like it had been broken a few times too many. Once I made the mistake of commenting on his apparent nerdiness, now he wears suspenders, granted they are usually neon green or blue, but they are still suspenders.

      Farrah is our red head. No streaks, no highlights, no hair dye, none. She was all natural red.  As for Farrah’s style…..well I can’t describe it. Half the time she’s got some crazy thing on (like a pink tutu, green fishnets, and a red Batman T-shirt), the other half it’s all 70’s, like she raided her parent’s closet and took like all the baggy sweatshirts and hippie skirts. She’s wild, crazy, and possibly high 99% of the time. Makes for a wild night out.

      So there we were, lazing around, arguing, and (in Sahara’s and P.J’s case) whispering. It was a typical day; nothing suggested that today would be the day we got caught. Jake returned from his kitchen raid, his arms full of cans and a bag of Doritos, a sandwich was stuffed into his mouth and hanging by his teeth.